


Goodbye To The Person I Guess You Aren't

by GodSaveTheKings



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Sad, Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24267151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodSaveTheKings/pseuds/GodSaveTheKings
Summary: Adora decides to write a letter to Catra telling her exactly how she feels after she nearly destroyed the world. When Catra finds it, Adora might realize some things are better left unspoken.Oneshot. Fluff. Catradora. Post-Season 5 Spoilers.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 281





	Goodbye To The Person I Guess You Aren't

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there. This story is based off an idea we had after watching the Season 3 finale last year but decided not to publish. We're glad we waited until now when the show is over. Thank you, and enjoy.

_Dear Catra,_

_I don't know why I'm writing this._

_This whole thing is pointless. It seems like there's a million other better things I could be doing right now than this. There's always a million things to do nowadays. You'd know about that, wouldn't you?_

_Bow says that writing your feelings down on paper is a good way to work through any issues you might have. That's such a Bow thing to believe, isn't it? That if you just jot down all your emotions that it will somehow make them hurt less. Maybe that's how he's been holding together so well through all of this. Not because writing things down actually helps him, but just because he has enough faith in his own beliefs to think that it will. I wonder if he's been telling the same things to Glimmer. Wait, scratch that. I know he's been telling her. He won't stop telling me he's been telling her. It's the solution for grief, he says. That and time._

_Speaking of time, it took me two hours to write those first few sentences. Not that you'd ever know. Well, I guess you'd never know any of this. If you ever found out that I was doing any of this, you'd just mock me for it. I can hear every word that you would say. "Oh, Adora. How cute. Writing a letter to someone when you know they are never going to be able to read it. As if I would even care? You are so pathetic." I can literally see that smirk on your face when you find out I was being sincere. What would you do then? Crumple it into a little ball and throw it away? Kidnap me and tie me up again, and then mockingly read it out loud to me as you gloat about my failures? What would be the best outcome here? I have to think to myself what I even would want you to think while reading this._

_Am I doing this correctly? I can't stay here in my room for another two hours, sulking while Etheria needs me more than ever. I'm literally just writing whatever words come to mind right now. I guess that makes it more of a journal? But Bow told me to pretend like I was writing a letter to you. That's the only way it's supposed to do anything to make me feel less like whatever this is._

_I'm so scatterbrained right now. I just read the first paragraphs over again and I hate them. They're all over the place and don't have a point. This letter is supposed to have a point, right? But, really, why proofread? You aren't going to read this, Catra. I can pretend you will, but you aren't. I can pretend you'd react to this any way I'd want you to. I can pretend that you would read this letter and have a change of heart. You would realize just how badly you've hurt me, and tears would well up in your eyes, and you would cry out an apology, and we would hug, and we could go back to being friends like everything was normal again. I could pretend that. I so desperately want to pretend that. But I can't._

_You killed Queen Angella. You did that. I know, technically, you didn't mean to. You didn't know you were going to kill her. But you opened that portal. You knew how dangerous and reckless it was but you opened it. And now Glimmer's mom is dead. Maybe she isn't. Maybe the portal just sucked her into some other world. Maybe it launched her into the future, or just turned her invisible, or something. I could pretend that too. But she's dead. I won't say it out loud, and Glimmer and Bow won't say it, but it's the truth. Angella is dead. She's dead and it's all your fault._

_You don't regret that at all, do you? You didn't care that it hurt. In fact, you wanted it to hurt. Well, congratulations. It hurts. It hurts a lot. And the only thing that hurts worse than losing Angella is seeing how much it hurts Glimmer. We've been trying to keep her mind preoccupied with other things. She has her coronation coming up soon, and Bow and I will keep planning it over the next week. We're asking everyone to act as normal as possible to keep Glimmer's spirits up. But I know she cries herself to sleep every night. I've heard her. It's awful. But the thing that keeps bothering me is that for some reason, whenever I hear her cry, I keep coming back to you. I imagine how you would react if you saw her like I did, broken and helpless, alone and afraid like you and I have been so many times. And I wonder, if you saw that, what would you think? How would Catra react if she saw someone going through the worst moments of her life? I think of your face. And I picture it all so clearly—you smiling and laughing, proud of what you've done. No matter how hard I try, I can't see you acting any differently._

_I've never thought you were a bad person, Catra. You probably don't believe that, but I swear on everything that I never thought you were bad. I know you had your problems. Every single day it seemed like there was something new for you to get furious or jealous over. But I always truly believed that deep down, you were good. Maybe it was Hordak's brainwashing for so many years, but I always thought you cared about people. I remember every time you got mad and attacked the others when we were kids. You always cried about that. Maybe it was just because you were afraid of what Shadow Weaver would do if you found out, but I thought part of it was that you didn't really ever mean to hurt anybody. That's how I always felt when I did that. Do you remember? It was the one time I ever hit you outside of training. We were eight, and we were arguing about something so stupid I can barely even recall what it was, but I hit you. A punch right to the jaw. I ended up chipping your tooth. Even now, I don't know if I've ever felt as guilty as I did then. Just seeing you slink away in pain, your cheek all bruised up. That killed me. You put all of your trust in me to protect you, and I betrayed you. Even when you got fixed up, you quite looked at me ever the same way again. And that stuck with me. Hurting you. It was like poison._

_Now? I've hit you more times than I can count. I've punched you so hard as She-Ra I felt your bones crack underneath my knuckles. I've hurled you off cliffs. It seems like hurting you is just part of the routine now. You scheme, I rebel, and then I hurt you. And I've never liked doing it. Not once. But the more I do it, the more I grow numb to it. The less guilty I feel. But I'm still hurting someone I care about, and I don't forget about it. I've never liked any of our fights. Not one. And you know, after sitting at this desk for two hours and thirty minutes now, just blabbing on in this completely stupid letter that won't do anything. I think I finally noticed something. You smile. Every time we fight, you always smile at me. I hate fighting you. You love it. Why?_

_I always, always, always thought you were a good person. But good people don't like hurting the people that they are supposed to care about. Before this war between us started, I remember hitting you once in my entire life. How many times did you lash out against me? Can you remember? I can't. It seemed like every other week there was a new claw mark on my arm or a bruise on my leg. And that's just what you did to me. And I would make excuse after excuse for you, and looking back, a lot of them were valid excuses. You were just lashing out. You were a kid. You didn't know how to control any of your emotions so you just acted in ways you knew you shouldn't. And even as we got older, I could still bury those moments. We were raised in the Fright Zone, after all. We were soldiers in Hordak's army. How else could someone behave growing up in a place like that? I could push it off. There was still plenty of good in you._

_When I became She-Ra and offered you the chance to join the Rebellion, it hurt when you didn't. But I pushed that off. You were being brainwashed by the Horde. You were scared to leave. Of course, you wanted to help me. You were pretty much my only friend for literally my entire life. You would never mean to hurt me. You needed time. You needed more love. Excuses. Excuses. Excuses. Every time we fought each other, I would think, yeah, this is it. This is when I break through to her. This is when she finally realizes just how much this is hurting me, and we can stop and work together. Every. Single. Time. I always thought that._

_And then when we fought that First Ones' tech together? Living through each other's memories. Of course, that would be the moment Catra's goodness breaks through. Of course. Of course, of course, of course, of course. And then it wasn't. You let me fall into an abyss. Smiling. Like always. You dug in deeper. Buried yourself in all of your I don't even know what. And the next time we fought? I still believed in you. I tried to snap you out of it. I still wanted you to come back to me. Time after time, again and again, and again, no matter how many times you proved me wrong, I still had faith that you could change. Become better. Like I changed. It wasn't too late for you. And even when Bow and Glimmer told me to let you go, I held on. I promised you that I would always be there for you._

_So look at what you did to me in return. To us. You tried to end the world, you killed Glimmer's mother, you erased everything. Just to hurt me. There was no other reason. It wasn't for Hordak. It wasn't for the war. You tried to destroy everything just so you could know that you took me down. And still, still I tried to bring you back. I reached out to you, even though you've never once shown me that you were willing to join me. I saved your life more times than I could count, and if I hadn't, Queen Angella would still be alive, but I still saved you despite everything._

_What did you do when I reached out to you? What did Catra do? The same thing she always did. She threw herself back into the void because in the end, you would really rather die than ever pass up a chance to hurt someone else. I cried when I lost you. Did you hear that when you were sucked away into that nothingness? Me sobbing your name? I thought you were gone forever. The only friend I ever had, ripped out of my life, and I couldn't do anything to save her because she never wanted to be saved in the first place. You got everything you wanted, because yeah, that hurt. That hurt more than I can write down, and you will never get the satisfaction of seeing the stains my tears are leaving on this paper because I couldn't stand to ever lose you._

_And then something happened. You came back. Smiling. Gloating. Doing everything in your power to make me feel like a failure. Even as the whole world fell around us, and nothing else mattered, and you were taken over that corrupted thing, you still were able to hurt me. And that's the most Catra-thing ever, right? Hurting people at all costs?_

_Do you ever wonder why we were friends?_

_I never did. Not once. Until just now. What was it that I saw in you? There had to be something good in there that I'm missing now. All I can think about now are the bitter moments. The two of us terrified. You: angry. Crying. There had to be something. I've always had to believe there was something. I knew that no matter how bad you became, how much Glimmer and Bow told me to leave you behind, I could save you because there was something good in there. I am trying so hard to think of where it is. I just hurt my hand banging it on the table. I'm trying. Literally anything would help. If you were here, what would you say were the best parts about yourself? Your cunning? Your ability to manipulate people? You would slink around my shoulder and smirk and tell me to stop being so naïve. That I can't change people. And I never would have believed you. People can always change. You could become the person that I once knew. My best friend._

_But that's just it, right? That person didn't exist. She never did. We weren't close because there was anything about you I liked. We were close because, in the Horde, that was the only way we could survive. You aren't kind. You aren't loyal. You can never rediscover the goodness within you because there isn't anything good in you. Is there? There's just malice and spite and jealousy and disgust and shame and emptiness in you. Like that void. That darkness didn't corrupt you. It showed me everything you've always been. And maybe it's the Fright Zone's fault. Maybe it's unfair to put that all on you. But I offered you a chance to become better. I tried so hard, Catra. And you refused. You are where you belong, and there's nothing I can do about that. There's nothing that's worth saving within you. You're a murderer, and a tormentor, and you make everything worse. You are Catra, and that means that you are, always were, and always will be, an awful person._

_The funny part is that I don't hate you. I should hate you. I hate all of the things you are, but I don't hate you. Glimmer hates you. Bow hates you. The other Princesses hate you. But I can't. And I can't explain why. Maybe I'm stupid for holding onto something I know was never there to begin with. Of course, I'm stupid. That's what you'd tell me. You love telling me how stupid I am. It's one of your favorite things to do. It was a small thing that always bothered me. One of the million things you did on a daily basis that I just shrugged off because you were the only friend I had, and getting rid of you would just be too painful for the both of us. But I have other friends now, and I guess that means I don't need you in my life anymore. Glimmer and Bow have been more loving and kinder to me in the past few months than you've been to me in your entire life. There's no part of you to cling onto except for the memories that I've been trying to forget about._

_And I think that's what the point of this letter is. This is me allowing myself to forget about you. I told you that you would have to live with the choices you made the last time we saw each other. I don't know if you believed me. You probably didn't. I didn't. But this is it. I don't want you in my life anymore. Whatever we used to have is dead, and it's time for me to stop pretending that you are someone worth caring about. You lie and hurt people, and that's the end of it. I know some of it might not be your fault, but frankly, I don't think I care anymore. I don't care what happens to you after we stop you. And we will stop you. But after this is over, I don't care. Glimmer will throw you in a cell for the rest of your life. I won't visit, but I'll have someone bring you this note. I'd want you to read this, to know how I felt, and I know you would just smile and laugh it off anyway, because that's what you'd always do. Mock my feelings. One last laugh at my expense._

_But just maybe you wouldn't laugh. Maybe you'd feel, somewhere deep down, the smallest bit guilty. Maybe you'd take this letter and shove it under your pillow and wallow over what you've lost. How I gave you so many chances and you threw them all away for nothing at all. Maybe that would hurt you just a little, and maybe your pain will give me the smallest ounce of solace for all the pain you've caused me. Except I don't want that. I'm not writing this letter to hurt you. Even now, I still can't make myself want to hurt you. I'm going to tell myself that that makes me strong. Stronger than you, at least._

_It's been six hours since I started writing this. Not that you can tell by reading. Not that you'd ever read this. Now I think maybe you don't deserve to read this. You don't get to know what happens inside of my head any longer. I'm going to stop writing after this paragraph I think, and then I'm going to put these sheets of paper in my bedside drawer, and then it's over. I'm going to help Bow with Glimmer's coronation, and I'm going to do what I can to protect my real friends from people like you. The next time we meet, you won't get the satisfaction of playing off my emotions. You won't get to hurt me anymore, Catra. You are never going to be able to hurt me again. I'm sorry for everything that made you the way you are. I'm sorry that I can't fix whatever's wrong with you. But at some point, I have to realize that it's just not my problem anymore. It never should be again. And, if I feel like it's ever going to be, I'll look at this letter to remind myself that I should never allow myself to care about you again. Goodbye. Sorry._

_From, Adora_

* * *

Catra's eyes didn't leave the paper for a long time. She held the letter, several sheets long, tightly between her thumb and forefingers, letting them fall and bend backward slightly in her grasp. She sat cross-legged on Adora's bed, the breeze from the nearby open window whispering against her fur. Her tail coiled behind her, flickering every now and then as she absentmindedly traced her thumb across the coarse texture of the pages. Her face was devoid of expression.

In the distance, she heard a voice calling her. Smooth and welcoming. The muscles in her back tensed up as it drew near.

"Catra? Hey, Catra, are you in here? I made dinner!" Adora gently beckoned her. The voice approached the closed door to the bedroom, and Catra could practically hear Adora's sheepish grin. "Okay, technically, the chefs made dinner, but I gave them some ideas! I don't know if they got used though…"

Catra heard the door slide open, and Adora stepped into the room. She took one good look inside, then stopped in her tracks and placed her hands on her hips, the corners of her mouth gliding upward across her cheeks.

"There you are, Catra," she said with relief. "I swear, you spend more time in my room than yours. I don't know why I didn't check here first."

She took another step forward. Catra didn't turn to greet her.

"I know. It's still so weird having you live here with us. Crazy."

Another step. Her voice perked up. Excited.

"Hey, what do you got there?"

Another step. Catra still didn't greet her.

"Doing some reading? What are you—"

Adora walked straight to the side of her bed, placing one arm against the mattress as she leaned to peak over Catra's shoulder. She scanned the first few lines of the front-most page, a curious smirk plastered on her face, like she had caught Catra red-handed in some secretive endeavor. But then her mind was able to process the words she was seeing. She reached through her mind, grasping for their familiarity, and she found them. Her smile suddenly vanished. She removed her arm from the bed and stood up tall, taking a hesitant step backward. Her eyes narrowed. Catra's ears perked up as she heard Adora's voice tremble ever so slightly.

"Where… where did you find that?"

Catra's nose twitched. It was the only part of her that moved as she began to respond. "I was looking for a comb. Thought I would borrow one of yours. I found this buried in your drawer." Adora watched carefully, fearfully, as Catra's thumb continued to glide over the scribbled letters. Her voice was dull. "It had my name on it, after all."

Adora swallowed the bug caught in her throat. "Did you… read it?"

Catra didn't look at her. "Three times."

Adora took another step backward. Her hand raced to her forehead. She felt dizzy all of a sudden. Like a whirlwind had taken her off her feet. She shook her head, and immediately went into damage control mode.

"Oh. No, Catra… wait." Her words came out jumbled, unsure. "I wrote that such a long time ago. It doesn't mean anything—it _shouldn't_ mean anything to you. I know it's not for me to say that… wait…" Adora quickly maneuvered herself onto the bed, sitting off its edge just by Catra's feet. She gently reached toward the papers, and surprisingly faced no resistance as she pulled the letter away from Catra's delicate grip. She hurriedly discarded the sheets on the other side of the bed, face down, their text away from view. Catra continued to stare at her hands as if nothing had changed, and Adora gingerly took those hands into her own.

"I know I said some awful things about you in there, but that was a different time. I don't believe any of that now. You know I wouldn't say anything like that, right? You know that." Adora smiled warmly, giving Catra's hand a comforting squeeze. Catra's eyes didn't move off the empty spot where the letter once was. Her face remained unreadable.

"Catra, I promise, I don't even know why I kept that. It means nothing. Literally, just… just nothing. I'm sorry if I said something that hurt you. You know I would never mean to do that. Right?"

Catra's face twitched. Her nose wrinkled, and for just half a second, a sneer appeared on her lips before her face returned to its blank state. Adora's smile slowly faded. It was amazing in a way. When she wanted to say the wrong things, she could do it in thousands of rambling words with no problem. But saying the right thing? She messed that up immediately and always. Adora sighed, leaning toward her girlfriend.

"Catra…" Adora pleaded. "If you are mad at me, I want you to tell me. I can't do anything if I don't know what's wrong." Adora pouted, squeezing Catra's hand tighter. "Catra, can you please look at me?"

For the first time since Adora entered the room, Catra locked eyes with her. Beautiful, multi-colored eyes. Adora would get lost in those eyes for hours, even when the two of them were children. But now, those eyes simply narrowed and glared daggers through her. When she spoke, it was barely louder than a whisper.

"Am I _allowed_ to be mad at you?"

Adora frowned. "Yes… yes, of course, you can be mad me. You can always be mad at me if I did something wrong."

"Really? Doesn't feel like it," Catra said sharply. She suddenly pulled her hands free and scooched away from Adora, sitting up on the soft, overly decorative pillows that rested at the head of Adora's bed. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, and her tail wrapped casually around her ankles, locking her into place. She closed her eyes, bringing her forehead to rest against her knees. Adora groaned softly, and never smart enough to know when to give up, she crawled back over to Catra's side, sliding herself between her girlfriend and the wall. She sat in the same pose, knees to her chest, feet together, but she still tried to bring her hand around and rest it comfortably on Catra's shoulder. It was shrugged away the moment it made contact, and Adora sighed dejectedly.

"Look, Catra," she tried to explain, "that letter was written at a really dark time. Glimmer just lost her mom, and we were losing the war, and it felt like everything I had was slipping away from me. I thought you were too far gone, and I wasn't sure if I would ever get to save you. I wrote that because I needed to find a way to make sense of how I was feeling about all of that, about you. I didn't even think about what I was saying when I wrote it. I just… _did_ it. I am so, so sorry about the things I wrote. I was wrong to even think like that about you. You didn't deserve it. Can you please, _please_ tell me how I can make things better?"

Catra said nothing.

Adora's voice cracked. She reached again for Catra's hand. "Catra, come on—"

"Don't touch me!" Catra snapped, pulling herself away. Adora was taken aback, pressing herself back against the wall to give Catra space. Catra's clawed hand tightly gripped her leg, and Adora could see her face start to contort as her emotions got the better of her. She started ranting. "What is it with you Princesses and always touching people when they don't ask for it? If I wanted you to touch me, I would have said so!"

Adora threw up her hands, trying to maintain her calm. She tried her best to put on a smile. "I'm sorry. I… I won't touch you again. See? Hands up. Nothing to worry about."

"No, don't say it like that," Catra growled. Her hand balled into a fist. "And stop looking at me like you're scared of me."

"Catra, I'm not scared of you," Adora said, easing through her frustrations. "I'm worried because you're upset and you aren't telling me what's wrong. I want to help you."

"Right now, you are making me upset," Catra stated, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her other hand tightly clutched the sheets on the bed. Her breath quickened. "You looking at me like that and acting like this is making me upset."

"I'm just doing what you asked," Adora said breathlessly.

"I know! That's what's making me upset!"

"Catra—"

" _Catra Catra Catra_. Stop saying my name! Stop pestering me!"

"Catra, you aren't—"

"I said stop it!"

Catra sprang off the bed, grabbing the pillow that she was seated upon, and with a harsh growl, she pulled her arm back and threw the pillow as hard as she could against the far wall. The pillow collided softly and fell to the ground much without making any sound at all. Adora froze in her spot, and the breeze from the window seemed to halt its flow, and suddenly the only sounds in the entire room were the sounds of Catra's jagged breathing. She ground her teeth together, her entire body heaving up and down, arm outstretched in the same spot where it released the pillow. Adora said nothing to her. Not a single word of encouragement or vitriol. She just waited, letting Catra's breathing slow and nerves steady before making her next move.

And then, she heard a different noise. The distinct, horrible sound of Catra fighting back tears.

One-by-one, Catra's fingers curled back into her palm, and she stepped back wobbling, almost drunk on her feet until the back of her thighs hit the bed and she could safely fall backward onto it. She wrapped her arms around her own torso, eyes wide toward the ceiling, and the instant she remembered that Adora was watching her, she rolled onto her side to hide her face. In the split-second she was visible, Adora saw everything: all of the shame and anger that she had been working so hard to suppress, written clearly on her face like the words on a page. Catra's tears were contagious, and Adora took a moment to keep herself firm before she made the hard decision of crawling back to Catra's side. She hovered over her crying girlfriend on her knees, and tried to speak as gently as she possibly could.

"Catra… what is wrong?"

Catra's whole body jerked with her sobs. It took her a long while to get out an answer, but Adora waited patiently for her. When Catra finally did answer, it was with the turmoil of a hurricane.

"Me," she responded. "I'm what's wrong."

Adora looked at her in shock.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were right about me," Catra stated. "Everything you said in that letter was right."

Adora stammered. "W-What? Catra, no… no, it wasn't…"

"Of course, it was," Catra huffed. "You know me better than anyone. All I cared about back then was making you suffer. I _liked_ it. I'm not a good person, and we need to stop pretending that I ever became one because I didn't. I don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve to be forgiven for what I did. I don't deserve you."

"Catra, that's nonsense!" The tears had spread from Catra's cheeks to hers, and she wiped them away desperately. She wanted to pull Catra in close, pull her deep into her arms, kiss her on the forehead, the cheek, do something to tell her that she was loved. She had to stop herself before she could because even when she knew she was wrong, she didn't want to violate an order from someone she cared for so much. "You aren't a bad person, Catra. You just made some bad choices, that's all. It's nothing."

"It's not _nothing_ ," Catra insisted, pounding her fist into the mattress. "How is it _nothing_? You wrote down every terrible thing I ever did to you. You know what I was capable of. You were right to leave me when you did. You never should have come back."

More tears were swept out of Adora's face. "Catra, we've been over this. I don't blame you for that."

"Well, you should!" Catra screamed. She growled again and continued slamming her fist into the mattress, pounding the soft fabric of the sheets over and over and over again, picturing it as herself. "I am Catra, and according to you, that means that there's nothing good within me. There's just _nothing_. And the fact that you're pretending like all of this is okay now, after everything I did, that you can just act like you love me and that will fix everything—I can't _deal_ with that, Adora."

Adora scowled. Her love: just an act? That was enough for her. She didn't care about the orders anymore. If Catra got mad at her later, she could get mad at her later. Adora palmed away the final few tears, and with a deep breath and a sense of determination, she grabbed onto Catra's arm, and forcibly pulled the girl up to her knees. She had to struggle for it. Catra screamed and swore at her, called her names, shoved at her as hard as she could to free herself. Adora did not let go. It took all of her strength to pull Catra into her, to finally wrap her arms around her slender shoulders, and it took even longer for Catra to stop resisting her. She spat and sneered and clawed, lightly enough not to break her skin but still enough to irritate her. All the while, she kept shushing her, rocking gently back and forth to soothe her, like cradling a child. She placed delicate kisses in the crook of Catra's neck, and whispered to her, "It's okay, it's okay," as many times as it took for Catra to stop trying to wriggle away and accept her fate within Adora's arms. Eventually, she did, and the pressure of Catra's breathing against her chest slowed, and only then did she have enough faith that her words would be heard to speak her mind.

"Will you just _stop_ it already?" Adora begged her. She nestled her cheek against Catra's ear, and it flicked and curled automatically in response. "You need to calm down. I can't handle you most days, but I seriously can't handle you like this so just… stop. For a few minutes. Please."

Catra's tears pooled against Adora's jacket, staining it, but she didn't seem to mind. Catra's breathing continued to slow. Gentler and gentler. She mumbled something into Adora's shoulder. "Okay."

Adora continued. "Look, I know it's been a weird few weeks. You being here. I get that. But you need to accept that this is really happening. I want you to be here with me. You are letting all of your insecurities get the better of you again, and I thought we were working past that. Yeah, you hurt people, but those people are choosing to forgive you because they see that you're trying to do good. And you have been doing good. You stopped Horde Prime. You saved all of Etheria. You're not a monster. And even if you think that you used to be—even if _I_ thought you used to be—that's changed. You've changed."

Catra hissed. "No, I haven't."

"Yes, you have."

"No, I haven't," Catra said, her sobs starting up again. "I don't _feel_ like I've changed. I feel just like I was back then, which means that I'm the same person I was then. I can still lash out. I won't be able to stop myself. I can still hurt you, Adora. What if I did that?"

"You won't," Adora said calmly. "I know you won't."

"But what if I did?" Catra said fearfully. "Can you promise me that you would get rid of me if I did that? I don't want you to keep giving chances to someone who doesn't deserve them."

"I'm not going to promise that," Adora said bluntly. "We both already promised we wouldn't hurt each other anymore, so it doesn't matter. You aren't the person who would do that to me. Not anymore."

"That's not true," Catra said solemnly. "I have been wanting to hit you for the past ten minutes. I've been thinking of it nonstop. I've been throwing your belongings around!"

Adora, for better or worse, immediately broke out into a laugh. A sad, tearful laugh, but a laugh nonetheless, something she didn't think she was capable of since she saw the letter in Catra's hands.

"You threw a _pillow_ , Catra. Come on," she said teasingly. "Throwing pillows isn't abusing anyone. I throw pillows. I scream into pillows. I _punch_ pillows. Pillows are perfect outlets for tension!"

Catra, begrudgingly, began to let down her guard. Her squirming stopped within Adora's grasp, and she gently moaned in worry. "But… I didn't…"

"Look, you said you wanted to hit me," Adora reasoned. "Did you ever hit me?"

Catra stuttered, her cheeks flushed. "N-No…"

"Did you insult me?"

"No."

"Did you do literally _anything_ that would hurt me?"

Catra sighed, defeated. "No… I didn't."

With the message seemingly coming across clear, Adora felt confident enough in Catra's emotional wellbeing that she slowly released her hug, giving both of them room to breathe. Separated, she could finally reexamine Catra's face. It was as she expected: miserable, streaked with tears, created at the intersection between a wounded pride, utter humiliation, and terrible shame. Adora took the time to carefully wipe those tears away, and then carefully interlocked their fingers and pressed their foreheads together. She looked deep into Catra's eyes. She could get lost in them for hours.

"I'm not asking you to be perfect for me, Catra," Adora said kindly. "I know that you have your issues you are working out. We both know how much the two of us still need to work out. But what matters to me—and to Glimmer, and Bow, and Scorpia, and Entrapta, and everyone else—is that you are _trying_. You are trying to make everything right again, and if you were really the kind of person that you and I thought you were, you wouldn't be doing that. The fact that you are here now means you're going to be okay, because you would never be here if you didn't prove that you deserved to be. You have to stop beating yourself up over what you used to be and forgive yourself. I have. You're a good person. You just have to make yourself see that."

Catra said nothing. She took in Adora's gaze fully, and Adora could feel her fingers wriggling around against her palm, but she didn't say anything. She probably didn't need to say anything, because honestly, that might have just made everything more awkward between them. She just stayed there, against Adora, on her knees, seemingly forever.

Then, she smiled.

"Jeez, is this what it's going to be like dating you?" she asked, wiping another tear from her eye. "Getting all sappy and emotional all the time?"

"It means you're opening up," Adora informed her proudly. "You're becoming a better person. That's just part of the process."

"Well, I hate it," Catra stated. "Honestly, I think I'd rather the two of us go back to being enemies again."

Adora giggled, brushing away the last of her tears with her sleeve. "Wow, maybe I underestimated you."

"Yeah, well, if it means having to listen to you get all inspirational and lovey-dovey with me, I'd gladly go back to being evil."

"No, I think it's too late for that. You already told me that you loved me. Plus, you kissed me. There's no turning back now."

Catra raised her eyebrow. "Really? Is that so?"

"Yep. Those are the rules," Adora hummed. "You kissed me, and now you're stuck with me forever. That's how it works."

"Fascinating," Catra grinned coyly. "Any chance that kissing you again would undo it?"

Adora shrugged. "You tell me."

They met each other halfway. Despite the tears that had been freely flowing earlier, they were still able to find a way to relax into each other. Honestly, Catra didn't know why she hadn't made a move for Adora's heart years sooner. Adora was probably thankful that she didn't; she never would have bothered leaving the Horde if she knew what she would be missing out on. Adora wrapped her arm around Catra's waist and pulled her in closer, and Catra brushed a thumb down her girlfriend's wet cheek, and they stayed like that, lost in each other until they were forced to pull themselves away to breathe. Adora wasted no time in pressing their foreheads together once more, keeping them as close to each other as they possibly could.

Catra sighed, disappointed. "Nope. Still in love with you."

Adora pouted. "Aww, what a shame."

"Hey, when did you become allowed to make jokes about me like that?" Catra gave her a playful shove. "Teasing is supposed to be _my_ job, Adora."

"I've always been equally good at teasing," Adora said defensively.

"No, you haven't been."

"Okay, well, I'm trying." Adora shifted in her seat and stepped off her bed. She held out her hand for Catra to take. "Come on. We are super late to dinner and I don't want to have to explain to Glimmer why we let the food get cold."

"Fine, fine. I'm coming," Catra groaned, accepting Adora's hands. She stepped onto the floor as well, but before Adora pulled her away, she took one last cursory glance at the sheets of papers discarded on the end of the bed. Adora noticed quickly and tried to pull her away, but Catra did not show any signs of sadness or anger. Instead, she picked up the paper and took a curious look at their backs, empty, devoid of text. "Hey, do you think I can borrow these?"

"Huh? What for?"

"Bow thinks writing is therapeutic. I have some stuff to work out," Catra explained casually. "I don't know, maybe we can get some use out of these things after all. What do you think?"

Adora smiled proudly. "I think that'd be a good idea. And I can help you, if you need me."

"Thank you, Adora. That… that actually means a lot," Catra said. She smiled. It was the most genuine, pure thing Adora had ever seen. Catra discarded the papers on the bed, and allowed Adora to pull her toward the bedroom door. The sun was starting to set as they made their way into the hall. Even so far away, the scent of their dinner wafted toward them, and they realized how eagerly they needed a meal after bawling their eyes out. It was a good day, Adora figured. She was glad to be spending it with someone she loved.

"Then again," Catra suddenly noted, "maybe you're not the best person to seek writing advice from."

"What?" Adora asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, let's face it… you're no poet."

"My writing is fine!"

"Eh. It tended to ramble a whole lot. It was also overly long. Unfocused."

"Oh, give me a break."

"Didn't really have good flow."

"You're the worst."

"You start way too many sentences with the word, 'And.' Atrocious grammar."

"I'm breaking up with you."


End file.
